Pezberry Week 2012 2
by FoxChaos
Summary: Written for Pezberry Week 2.0. So um, lots of Pezberry? I didn't get through all the days, but I can always go back to them at all when inspiration strikes. For now, enjoy what's here. Fluff, angst, tutoring smut. Good times, right? And also science. Yay science!
1. Day 1: Inappropriate Flirting

_Take from Tumblr post: I swear these were totes on time during actual Pezberry Week._

_((A/N- I had no idea what I was gonna do for this until about two hours ago when I was trying to nap. Not sure if this really works, but it's what I got. And as a rule, I try really hard not to play on the double-standard of "it's okay as long as it's a girl doing it". Groping and physical touches made without permission is never okay, gender or sex aside. And in my personal headcanon Santana pretty much thinks she's superior to men in every way possible when it comes to other women. That means that she doesn't need to cop a feel or find an excuse to touch them. She just has to smile and wink and woman **want** her touching them all over. Anyway! Unbeta'ed. Also, I know nothing about figure skating or the Olympic partner rules, but whatever, right?))_

* * *

Rachel had been preparing for this competition since the day she had put on her first pair of skates, as far as she was concerned. Nailing this would mean a shot at the Olympics; a real, honest-to-goodness shot at the highest honor in the world of athletics. She was determined to make it, and with her partner Jesse, there was no way they would lose.

That was the plan, at least, until two weeks into practice with only two months till the big show, Jesse broke his ankle was absolutely out. It was like all her dreams were crashing down around her and there was nothing the young skating prodigy could do but sit at the practice rink and try to fight back the tears. Her coaches had promised her they'd find her a new partner, but she knew that it was too late. Her one and only real shot at the Gold was_gone._

She was so busy holding back tears and getting lost in her own little world of self-loathing that she didn't notice someone else coming onto the ice and skating up to her until they were right in front of her, dark red skates contrasting sharply against the clear ice under the blades. Rachel looked up, ready to inform the mystery person that this rink was private, when she was interrupted by said person speaking.

"You Rachel Berry?" asked the woman. Her arms were crossed, her posture as bored as possible with one hip jutting out, and an eyebrow raised as a confident smirk played on her red, lush lips. Tanned skin, ebony hair pulled back into a perfect pony-tail, loose, black practice slacks and a white tank-top completed the woman's look, and it took Rachel a moment to comprehend the fact that woman's lips weren't moving for her own viewing pleasure.

"What? Oh, um, yes. Yes I am." She stood up quickly, immediately noting the good three to four inch difference in their height. "May I ask why you wish to know? This rink is closed for private use only, you realize." The woman just chuckled.

"Santana Lopez. I'm your knew figure skating partner."

The petite skater blinked, looked the woman up and down again, and then scrunched her brows together in confusion. "Um… You're-"

"Hot? Yes, I'm aware, but thank you," cut in Santana before Rachel could finish her sentence. The other girl frowned, huffing.

"I was going to say female, actually."

The taller skater just grinned, pushing her chest out and up with her crossed arms. "Um, duh. I thought _these _made that pretty obvious."

Rachel felt her mouth go dry for a moment, but she swallowed the growing lump in her throat quickly and ignored the flush she could feel heating up her cheeks as she redirected her eyes to meet Santana's darker brown ones. "Y-yes, I would say so. But that doesn't- I- What I mean to say is, well, you can't be my partner. Because you're, very obviously, female."

Santana rolled her eyes, then shifted a little and skated forward, spinning a little and turning around Rachel so that she was behind the girl, mouth next to the smaller woman's ear. "And why, Miss Berry, is that an issue?"

Her back going rigid for a moment, the skater quickly moved away from the other woman and spun around on her skates smoothly. "I'm quite sure there are some kind of rules or regulations about partner gender and-"

"Nope," interrupted Santana once more as she skated closer to Rachel. "As long as both partners are fit and able gender, or sex, is not specifically stated in neither the current competition rules nor the Olympic handbook." The woman was grinning now as she moved in on Rachel, who was skating backwards to keep her distance.

"Well, there you have it. Physically able. There's no way you could do any of the advanced lifts and holds necessary to guarantee us a win. That's why men are always the counterparts." Just then her skates hit a small chink in the ice, that should not have been there, and she was falling backwards. She was about to balance herself out when suddenly a steady arm was around her waist and a firm hand under her lifted knee. She blinked, opening her eyes fully, to see Santana's eyes inches from hers as the taller woman leaned over her slightly, holding her perfectly steady and, seemingly, without any strain.

The tanned woman smirked toothily, a thin eyebrow raising cockily. "What was that you were say about not being 'physically fit'?" She helped Rachel straighten up, lowering her leg and making sure the woman had her balance once more, but didn't put any extra distance between them.

Rachel's face was, once again, red, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She chalked it up to nothing more that the after effects of the adrenaline rush gained from nearly falling. "J-just because you can catch me whilst falling does not equal being able to lift and carry me for any substantial amount of time, Santana." The other woman just laughed, and rolled her shoulders before cracking her neck.

"Alright then, Rachie. Let's practice, shall we?"

Jaw tightening and her need to always be _right _flaring up, Rachel nodded. "Yes. Let's."

—-

A week went by, and Rachel had to concede that Santana could _definitely _lift_and _carry her. Spins, twists, flying catches, extending, twirling lifts- everything Rachel needed to practice, everything she challenged the taller skater with, was met with perfectly composed poise and skill and steady strength. The first time she had actually bothered to look at Santana's arms she and toned abs as they constricted and extending in their use she had felt a sudden rush of hot, hot heat go straight through her stomach and into her groin, and had needed to take a five minute break to cool down.

If Santana noticed the affect she had on Rachel, she didn't show it. Her hands never traveled beyond where it was necessary, her grip was never anything except professional, and no matter how sexual their… positions appeared the woman never made a comment about it. It was… refreshing, actually. Rachel was a little ashamed to admit to herself that she had fully expected Santana to being making lewd commentary and copping a feel any chance she got, judging by how their first conversation had seemed to be going, but was pleasantly surprised (again) to be proven wrong. Santana was a professional athlete and acted like such, and it made Rachel feel safe and secure in her hands and against her body.

Not that… well… Not that Rachel's thoughts were always particularly professional…

She would go home late at night after long hours of practice sore and exhausted and fall into bed imaging- dreaming – about strong, slim fingers holding her thighs, with dark (nearly black) eyes staring down at her, and that cocky, self-assured smirk playing on full red lips and-

The release she got every time her hand found its way between her legs at the thought of Santana was probably the best she had gotten in ages, and she could only imagine and continue to dream how good it would feel to have the real thing touching her.

And then she would go to practice, bury all those inappropriate thoughts and feelings, and once again be Rachel Barbra Berry, skating extordinare.

—

It was two days till the big competition when everything changed.

They had become comfortable around each other by now, and even went so far as to openly flirt and hang out together after practice.

Santana's touches, outside of practicing routines, had become a bit more… daring, and every time Rachel somehow showed that she was comfortable with where the woman's hands were, they'd eventually explore further. She knew the taller woman was testing her; making sure everything she did and where they went was okay, but honestly, sometimes Rachel really just wanted the dark-skinned woman to push her up against the wall of the rink and-

Her face was getting red again. She needed to stop thinking about these things outside of the privacy of own bedroom.

Practice had ended for the evening and Rachel was just grabbing her water bottle from the bench on the other side of the wall when she felt a warm, firm body and soft, equally firm breasts push up against her back as slim, toned arms barricaded her in against the wall. She froze as she felt hot air against her ear.

"You know, Rachie, you've been getting pretty… flushed lately…" whispered Santana huskily. Rachel swallowed thickly, the hand on her water bottle clenching tightly.

"I don't know what you mean, Santana." She was honestly amazed how even her voice sounded, considering her breathing seemed positively erratic. She was pressed tighter against the wall, feeling strong thighs on either side of her own toned legs.

"You sure? Cause I mean, I wouldn't want you _coming _down with something this close to the tournament." Santana moved one hand away from its perch on the edge of the wall and to Rachel's leg, trailing it from the petite skater's lower thigh until it hit the edge of her uniform skirt, then gliding perfectly manicured nails back down across the nerves.

Rachel shuddered, arching back against Santana and biting back a moan. It was ridiculous how little Santana was doing and yet she could already feel herself becoming wet…

"I- I assure y-ou that I am perf- perfectly healthy and at the top of my game," was her hoarse, thick reply. She could feel the woman behind her lean in, lips smiling against her neck.

"I dunno… You just seem so… tense…" The hand on Rachel's thigh slowly conformed to grip the leg, flexing a little as she needed the muscles slowly. "Maybe I should come over tonight, you know? Help you _stretch_ out and_loosen up_."

Rachel whimpered, a "Yes please" on the tip of her tongue when Santana's hand moved just a little too far and high into the inside of her thigh and she suddenly became very, very aware of their position and location. Using every ounce of will-power she had left, she pushed against Santana and spun around, ducking under the woman's raised arm and taking a few, long strides across the ice to give herself some room to breathe and think clearly. Santana stayed where she was, surprisingly, and allowed the woman to cool down.

Once she was sure she knew what she wanted to do, Rachel turned around, a coy smile on her face and a hopeful twinkle in her eye. "I'm afraid I've already got plans, actually."

Santana took a few, easy strides towards Rachel, and the petite brunette began lazily skating backwards, Santana following her. "Is that so?"

"Yes," she nodded. "See, I was hoping to take this gorgeous figure skater I met a few weeks ago out to dinner tonight. I'm really hoping she says yes, and I want to keep my schedule free just in case."

Santana was smirking now, and Rachel had slowed her skating, allowing the other woman to come within arms-reach, where she stopped. "Oh? That's funny, I was hoping to have this pretty little figure skater's sexy legs wrapped around my head tonight. I just met her a few weeks ago, but I_really _hope she'll say yes."

Rachel flushed, stopping her movements entirely and looking down, a shy grin on her face. Santana moved in closer, one arm wrapping around her 'partner', and her other hand coming up to the smaller woman's chin, turning it up so that they were making eye contact. She offered her own, coy smile, and Rachel leaned into her a bit, trusting Santana to be able to support her easily, which she did.

"I have a three date rule, I'm afraid…" The smile was still there though, and just as shy and sexy.

Laughing a little before leaning in to peck Rachel on the nose, Santana shrugged. "I'll take you on as many dates as you want, Rachie," she whispered huskily. "And give just as many, if not more, orgasms. Promise."

The two left the rink hand in hand, and, three dates and a 1st place win later, all of Rachel's dreams started coming true, and the real Santana, she decided, was so, so much better with her hands than she ever, _ever _had imagined.

.


	2. Day 2: Living Together

_((A/N- Apathyempathy is invading my writing with angst. Seriously. I wrote this under the influence and was pretty sure I was gonna start tearing up at some point. Another story that came outta nowhere while I was trying to sleep. I know by now that if I don't write things while they're in my head, important details are lost. So here ya go. Day 2.))_

* * *

Tonight was the night, thought Rachel. Tonight she was finally going to ask Santana Lopez out on a date and it was going to go exactly according to plan no matter what the answer was. If Santana said yes she would graciously thank her and proceed to phase two; if she said no, no matter how harshly, the little diva was determined to accept that answer just as gracefully and continue on with her head held high and maintain a perfectly amiable friendship.

She could do this. She WOULD do this.

She heard the door to their apartment unlock from where she was in the kitchen and was just about to call out to her roommate and friend when she heard giggling – from another woman. Her heart stopped for a moment, but she just firmed up her jaw and forced herself to turn around to look into the connected living room.

Santana was there; a tall, leggy blonde wrapped around her and clearly drunk. The ex-Cheerio looked just as drunk, and wasn't even attempting to keep her hands from going under the random's short, short skirt.

Rachel cleared her throat, forcing smile onto her lips and hoping for all she was worth that her roommate was too inebriated to notice the tightness. "Santana, hi… You… brought home a friend. And you've been drinking?"

The taller brunette laughed, eyes glassy with alcohol. She leaned into the blond, whispered something into her ear that made the woman flush all the way down to her chest and burst into more giggles, then swatted her ass and sent her towards Santana's bedroom before turning to shrug at her roommate, grinning widely. "Yyyeeaahh… I'mma gonna need ya ta like, go ta Kurt's or somethin' tanight. You cool with that, Chica?" She walked past Rachel, who was struggling to keep herself composed and _absolutely not cry, _to get a glass of water.

The diva turned around, taking a moment to take a steadying breath, and replied, "S-Santana, it's 12:30 in the morning… I couldn't- I couldn't possible go all the way over to Kurt's at this time. It's nearly a 45 minute bus ride…"

The other woman sighed heavily, as though Rachel was using some horribly lame and not perfectly reasonable excuse. "Come oooonnn, Rach. I dun wanna hear you lecturin' me in the morning over like, you not bein' able ta sleep or whatever. I'mma tryinz ta spare youz, here." The shorter girl glared.

"If you truly cared about 'sparing me' as you put it, you wouldn't bring women home so late like this when you know I'll be here in the first place. What happened to our late night movie marathon we were supposed to have tonight? It's why I made sure to get home early from rehearsal…"

Santana gulped her water down, setting the glass in the sink and strutting towards Rachel, making a sound somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. "I knoooow, I know. But like, have you _seen _that chicks legs? Fuckin' A, man… She bought me some drinks, I promised her orgasms." They were face to face now, and Santana was grinning down at her. "Rain-check, kay, Chica?" With that she patted Rachel on the head and strode out of the kitchen and to her bedroom.

When the singer was sure the other brunette was gone, and just as she started hearing the moans coming from the bedroom, Rachel allowed the tears that had been welling up in her eyes to finally stream down unrelentingly over her reddened cheeks. "S-sure…" she choked out, despite knowing Santana clearly wasn't going to hear her. As the moans got louder and the sobs started breaking through and making her chest tighten, the singer couldn't bare it any longer.

Without another thought she hastily scribbled out a note to Santana and grabbed her cellphone and keys and wallet from the counter. As she was walking out the door her phone finally picked up. "K-kurt? I-I-I'm s-sorry, it's just that- I just- I really need to come over…"

Santana woke up with a splitting headache and a warm body pressed up against her. She could barely remember last night, but she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and was pretty sure she had fucked up somehow. Looking over to see wavy blond hair splayed out over her shoulder, the brunette groaned and flung her free arm over her eyes. "Fffffuck," she hissed. Rachel was gonna be _pissed._

Twenty minutes later the nameless woman (Catherine? Katie? It didn't matter) was out the door and Santana was waiting for her coffee to get done when she saw the note on the counter. She frowned, noting that Rachel's usually flowing script was sharp and erratic and that there were- _Oh God please don't tell me those are tears. Did I make her cry? Fucking hell what did I say to her last night?_

Then it hit her. Everything came rushing back.

She was at the lounge she worked at, just getting done with her set and getting ready to leave and get to the movie marathon her and Rachel had been planning when one of the new waitresses had come up to her and offered to buy her a drink. Of course she had said yes. What was one drink? Then one turned to two, then three, and before she knew what was going on she was making out with the woman in a taxi cab on their way back to Santana's.

She remembered seeing Rachel in the kitchen when she came through the door, and- Jesus Christ how could she not have noticed how fucking _stricken_the girl had looked? She also remembered telling Rachel to go to Kurt's, and by now was seriously considering calling Quinn up and asking her to slap her in the face – repeatedly. "I am an _asshole_," groaned the ex-cheerleader as she slapped her palm over her eyes.

"I'd be lying if I said otherwise, yes…"

Santana looked up to see an anxious, red-eyed, and tired looking Rachel standing on the other side of the counter, hands clasped in front of her and only briefly making eye contact with the taller girl before going back down to the floor. She hadn't even heard the tiny singer come in. "Um… Shit Rachel, I am so, so sorry…"

Rachel just shrugged. "It's fine, Santana. Well, I mean, having to wake Kurt up at 12am and taking a 30 minute cab ride to his loft at such an hour after having been 'sexiled' by my drunk roommate who promised me a bad-movie-marathon isn't fine… But this is your apartment, too, and you are free to bring home women in order to um… scratch an itch, or whatever it is you want to call it, at your leisure."

Santana frowned, moving around the counter to stand in front of Rachel, who still refused to look at her. "Rachie…"

"No- Just. Just don't, San. I'm very tired, and I'd like to actually get some real sleep before rehearsal this afternoon. So, if you would excuse me." She turned to go down the small hallway to her room and heard Santana call out.

"We on for that marathon tonight?"

Rachel froze for a moment, her hands tightening in front of her. "Um, no, I'm sorry, Santana. Kurt and some of his friends offered to take me out tonight. I'll probably be sleeping at his place again, so- well if you'd like to have someone over, I won't be in your way." Then she hurried into her room and shut the door before her roommate could reply.

She had been napping for maybe an hour when she felt the mattress dip and slim, but strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her close. She was able to continue to feign sleep up until she felt soft lips kiss her neck, and then her ear. Shuddering, Rachel squirmed, but the arms just drew her in closer. "I'm sorry, Chica," came a low whisper, and the smaller girl clenched her eyes shut tighter, willing herself to breathe evenly. The low, smoky voice continued, though. "I'm sorry for blowing you off last night, and for bringing girls home when I know it bothers you."

"S-Santana-"

"Shhhhhh." Hot air blew over her pulse point, and Rachel's breath hitched. "I'm sorry that I keep being a bitch to you, even though you're like, this incredibly awesome roommate 90% of the time. The other ten percent you're only kinda awesome."

Rachel blushed, and bit back the smile that was threatening to overtake her lips. She felt Santana shift, and then she was being rolled over onto her back and Santana was hovering over her. Her heart skipped a beat.

"San…?"

But the tanned woman shook her head, placing a finger over the smaller woman's lips. "Shhh, remember?"

Rachel pouted a little, and the woman above her just smiled. "And, most of all…" Santana inhaled, exhaling slowly, and for a moment the diva could swear the ex-Cheerio looked… nervous. "I'm sorry for being such a damn coward that I tried sleeping away my feelings for you."

And then Rachel was pretty much positive that time had stopped.

"W-what?" she managed.

Santana's nervousness became a bit more apparent, and she looked over to the side. "I… like you… A lot. More than just as a roommate or a friend, or whatever… I didn't wanna like, freak you out, so I kept… having girls over. Last night wasn't supposed to happen, though. I got drunk, and I fucked up, and I'm sorry…"

No one spoke then, for a good few minutes, before finally, the songstress swallowed, moved her hands to cup Santana's cheeks, and made her look at her. "Prove it," she whispered. The other woman raised an eyebrow, so Rachel went on. "Prove you like me, and show me… show me how sorry you are."

The smirk that splayed over Santana's full lips could only be described predatory, and it sent a shiver down Rachel's spine and a heat straight through her gut. Before she could say anything else those lush lips were on hers, soft and inviting and so, _so perfect._ Rachel gasped as Santana nipped at her lower lip, and then their tongues were dancing and entwining and as skilled fingers began to make their way under Rachel's shirt, all she could think was,

_Finally._


	3. Day 3: Nerd SantanaPopular Rachel

_((A/N- Somehow this turned into 8 pages. I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I don't even know what I'm writing anymore. I'm gonna go find something to eat now, though. Smut makes me hungry, apparently. I'm almost afraid of what the last day's story is gonna turn out to be. They just keep getting longer and dirtier as we go… Anyway, enjoy the science! And the pezberry, I guess. Somehow various fics of mine become educational. What even?))_

* * *

She was a geek, a nerd, a- a _loser._ And a whore, if Quinn Fabray had anything to say about it. But that didn't stop Rachel from looking, and noticing, and _wanting._

As she slowly, but not too slowly, put her books in her locker and prepared for the last period of the day, she glanced down the hall to where Santana Lopez and her friends stood, laughing and smiling about something that was most likely far, far more interesting than the latest cheer routine, or the new clothing line coming out in a month, or whatever it was that Kurt and Quinn next to her were going on about.

A white, short-sleeved blouse, tucked into black slacks that fit _perfectly _and hair pulled back into a tight pony, highlighting the thin rimmed glasses covering dark chocolate eyes. _God she's the hottest science nerd in the world. It's not fair. Losers aren't supposed to actually look good in clothes like that. Ever. _As the warning bell rang she was pulled from her thoughts by Quinn saying goodbye and Kurt putting her arm through his. They made their way to Physical Science, Rachel's most hated class, and the young man next to her was smirking.

"So… You're gonna have to keep your leering in check, Miss Superstar, if you don't want Quinn asking questions and doubting your loyalty to the royals."

Rachel rolled her eyes, a mask of perfect indifference over her features. "I don't know what you're talking about, Kurt. Why would I ever be looking at a little science freak like that?" But the smug expression on the boy's face didn't go away. He just patted her arm and smiled.

"Hun, it's safe to admit that Santana is hot, for a female. Everyone in this school interested in the feminine sex knows it."

That was true at least, thought Rachel. She made a point to know as much about the other girl as possible, strictly for the opportunity to embarrass her, of course, were she ever called to do so, but that wasn't the point. She recalled a conversation she had had with Noah Puckermen the other day.

_"So, I finally went to Lopez for tutoring in my math class."_

_Rachel looked up from where she was reading over sheet music, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the smug, lecherous smirk settling the young man's face. "Oh really…? And how was that…?"_

_Puck took a chair from the risers, swung it around, and straddled it next to the piano bench where she sat. "Let's just say that all the rumors about how she 'tutors' you, are totally true. And I got a B+ on my last test." The smirk turned to a positively dirty grin. "I completely get why like, half the school has lost their virginity to her. She turns from like, a pretty hot but completely pathetic nerd into this- gawd this super hot and super freaky sexy teacher or whatever. I mean, I didn't lose my virginity or anything that lame to her, but fucking shit man, if I'd known back in freshmen year I totally would have to her."_

_The conversation is making Rachel uncomfortable, and not for the reasons Puck would think (or maybe for the exact reasons Puck would think), so she just sets a disgusted scowl on her lips and scoffs. "You're abhorrent, _Noah_. If you're just going to sit here and talk about your sexual escapades with that loser, feel free to leave me to my music now."_

_Puck rolled his eyes but got up, not bothering to put the chair back, and left. She was pretty sure she caught me him talking to Santana later that day, but apparently he'd been shot down. The girl had just smiled sweetly (and Rachel was _positive _it had been insultingly sweet) and offered an apology. Something about only one session per student, or something._

Rachel had been so deep in her memories that when Mr. Switchoski called on her, asking her to state the book's definition of inertia, she could only sputter and go red in the face. Her classmates didn't dare laugh, but she could see them trying to hide smiles, and from the corner of her eye she saw Santana roll her eyes. That hurt, as much as she didn't want it to and refused to admit it.

Then Switch decided to inform them about the quarterly test coming up on Friday, and Rachel was pretty sure she was going to die.

Science was the worst of all her subjects. She had A's in absolutely everything (well a B+ in Algebra 2 but still) except Physical Sciences, which she had only been managing to pull a C in. It was disgusting, and one of her dirtiest secrets.

And then… an idea.

It was insane. It was wrong. It was falling into a social trap that if she were ever found out would absolutely ruin all the hard work she had put into getting to the highest rungs of the high school social ladder with such swiftness she wouldn't even have time to breathe. But… But it could also be her only chance to speak with the girl on… mostly acceptable terms.

_Okay. Okay, I'll do it. Or I'll try. _After all, she was Rachel Berry; Glee star, second in command to Quinn Fabray, and Junior Prom Queen. This was her senior year, and she'd be damned if she didn't take advantage of opportunities as they came.

Not to mention if _Noah Puckerman _could get a B+ on a Math quiz, she could definitely manage an A on her Science test.

It was after school and after Glee Club when she managed to track the other girl down outside the school, smoking just under the bleachers and talking with Artie, who must have just gotten out of football practice. She approached cautiously, double-checking to make sure the Cheerios were already in the locker room beforehand, and cleared her throat when she was within polite speaking distance. Both Artie and Santana looked at her the same time, eyebrows raised a bit in surprise before Santana smirked and Artie rolled his eyes.

"Can I help you, Berry?" asked the science prodigy. She blew a ring of smoke off to the side.

"I hope so, Lopez. You see, there's a very important test coming up in my science class, as you are aware, and unfortunately I am ill-prepared for it. I was hoping you could help?"

Artie took that as his cue to leave, waving goodbye to his friend with a knowing smirk. Santana just chuckled, snuffing out her mini cigar.

"What class again?"

"Physical Science."

The taller girl snorted, but smiled patiently. "No problem. Come by my house tonight, around 7, if that's okay with you?"

Rachel swallowed, her heart beating wildly at the smile being sent her way. "Yes, that should be perfect. Thank you, Santana. I appreciate it."

"It's not a problem, Berry. Remember to bring your books, though."

With that the two parted ways, and Rachel thought it was completely ridiculous how flustered she felt after a less than two minute conversation with the science whiz.

She was there precisely at 7pm, in front of the Lopez house, which was only a couple of streets over from her own. When she rang the doorbell all she got for a reply was a yelled "Come in, it's open!" from inside, so she opened the door, stepped into the house, and closed the door softly behind her. She looked around the entryway as she removed her shoes, readjusting her backpack before walking further into the house.

"Santana? Are you here?" There was no sign of the girl, but as she got to the living room she saw a Chem 2 and Honors Physics book laying out on the coffee table, along with a few notebooks. _She must have been doing her homework… _Rachel looked over what was written on the open notebooks, eyes widening a bit at the sheer complexity of it all. _God that's hot. Why is intelligence so attractive to me? My life and popularity would be so much easier to handle if I just liked a nice face and big muscles…_

"Not sure you're ready for that particular kind of coursework yet, Berry."

Rachel jumped as she heard a voice from behind her, turning around to see Santana standing on the bottom step of the stairs and leaning against the railing with her arms crossed, a joking smile on her face. Then the diva's jaw dropped once she was able to register the girl's appearance.

Gone were black slacks, replaced with a barely knee-length, tight skirt. The blouse was still white and still short-sleeved, but it was so, so much tighter than she remembered from earlier that day, and the top three buttons were undone. The girl's hair was down and her glasses were gone, and she wore black heels. Part of Rachel wondered how she hadn't heard her coming down the wooden steps, but that part of her was completely ignored.

"Um… Santana…?"

Santana was walking towards her now, letting her hand trail over the back of the couch as she moved in front of it and next to Rachel. "Sit down, Berry, and take out your books. I'm the student aid in your science class, remember? I already know how much you need help."

Rachel couldn't think clearly, and that smile was turning her insides to mush. So she sat down slowly, never taking her eyes off of Santana, and took out her textbook and notes. Santana sat down next to her – right next to her, with their thighs touching, and leaned over a bit to pick up the bright orange notebook that belonged to the petite girl. She flipped through it idly, frowning at some parts and tsk'ing at others, before finally setting it back down and shaking her head.

"You're horrible at taking notes, you know that, right?"

That snapped Rachel out of her daze momentarily and she frowned. "Excuse me? I'll have you know that I am an exceptional note-taker-"

'"For other classes, sure, I understand. But science and math are different. You need to think differently, and therefore take notes differently. But that's okay, we'll go over it."

Thus, for the next hour and a half, much to Rachel's surprise, they did indeed go over it, along with the coursework for the first quarter. It was oddly normal, but very helpful, and she was even starting to get used to Santana's incredibly close proximity and the way she would lean in even closer to point something out or write something down.

It was getting close to 9 when Rachel started thinking she should get going, and that maybe Santana only had sex with the people she tutored when they asked or something, when suddenly there was a hand running up her thigh and her breath hitched as her spine straightened up. Santana was leaning into her again, soft breasts pressing into her shoulder as warm lips brushed her ear. "You ready for your review test, Rachie?"

Between the hot whisper and the new nickname, Rachel couldn't fight the blush beginning to spread across her cheeks and down her neck.

"R-review?"

Santana nodded slowly, pressing in even closer. "Mmhm. We need to make sure you've learned everything for Friday."

"I-uh- I'm not sure I-"

Then a hand was under the hem of her shirt, tracing small circles and spirals around her navel and skirting just a little higher each with each passing. "If you want me to stop, say so now, otherwise you're in for the best test of your life, _Rachel_."

The moment her name was husked out the singer felt her core already start to get damp and any and all thoughts of saying no were just _gone._ But…

"It's just that- I'm a- I'm a bit, well, no, I'm completely inexperienced and I'm not sure if I'm ready for uh, that… I mean all the way or-" A finger on her lips stopped her anxious rambling and she looked over to Santana to see a soft, reassuring smile. It made her brain fizzle out, again.

"Relax."

Then she was slowly being pushed to the couch cushion, but was turned so that she was facedown, and before she could decide if she was okay with this position or not Santana's chest and abs were pressing into her back and slim fingers were slipping around her waist and dipping into the hem of her sweatpants. Those same slim fingers skirted over her core, above the cotton of her panties, and Rachel didn't even attempt to swallow the throaty moan that immediately rose from her throat and out of her lips. She felt Santana's lips against her ear again.

"Friction," whispered the woman.

"W-what?"

"Define friction."

Rachel mentally balked as her hips shot forward and down against Santana's fingers, which only moved with her and refused to provide any more than light touches. She couldn't seriously be expecting Rachel to think about_science _right now, could she?

"Define the word, Rachie, or you won't get any of it."

Another moan mixed in with a desperate whimper as she racked her brain. "F-friction; the r-rubbing of the surface offff one body against that of- that of another w-which creates- mmng- creates surface tensssion rel-itive to the m-motion."

The fingers against her pressed in harder and began rubbing with firmer strokes. "Good girl. What is the push and pull of an object called?" Santana's hand was suddenly inside her panties and teasing her clit, pinching it lightly and pulling just enough to send jolts of pleasurable pain straight from Rachel's nerves and up into her stomach and spine.

"Oh God- Ican't-" Then the hand stopped again, and Rachel whined pleadingly.

"The question, Rachie.

Another desperate whine and the squirming girl nodded, forcing out the answer between pants. "F-force. It's called force."

Santana started applying just that, along with friction, right where Rachel wanted it most.

"Now was that so hard? Next question…"

And it went on, and on, and by the time Santana got to the last few things on Rachel's review sheet and notes the smaller brunette was a hot, writhing, panting mess. Her shirt had been taken off at some point, along with her sweatpants, but her bra and panties remained. She was so desperate for release at this point that she could barely comprehend what exactly Santana was saying, but somehow she was still able to answer the questions. It was mind-boggling.

"Almost done, Rachie. You're so _close_. Just three more questions, okay? Can you answer them for me?" Santana continued to tease the smaller girl's clit and glide her skilled fingers between and around her folds, only dipping in lightly every so often as her other hand tweaked and kneaded Rachel's tits. The girl under her just whimpered, but nodded vigorously as her hips tried desperately to cant back and forth against the other girl's weight. "Newton's First Law of Motion is Inertia. Define it."

Rachel squeaked a little as one of her nipples of twisted, but sucked in a deep breath anyway. "Nnnatural tend-ency of an- of an object tokeep- ohh- San-nng-" She paused, took a few deep, erratic breaths, and went on. "to either s-stay in motiiion or at ressst."

Santana hummed, nipping at Rachel's ear. She'd nip the ear when Rachel hadn't gotten the full definition, and bite the girl's neck if her answer was wrong. If the girl didn't answer at all, or took too long, she stopped moving her fingers all-together. Rachel keened.

"," was the hurried response, which was followed by a pleased and thankful moan when Santana applied more pressure to her clit and twisted her nipple again.

"Second Law," whispered Santana hotly.

"F equals m times a."

"And that means?"

"F-force eeequals mass t-timesss accel-acceleration."

Santana allowed more of her weight to push against Rachel, and began rocking her hip's in time with the diva's. "Apply it."

"You-you need more- you need more force, to move an obj-ect with more mass." Another nip to her ear. "The equation- helps you fffiiiiiind that force."

"Which is measured in?"

"Newtons" Rachel squeaked at a particularly hard pinch at her clit.

Santana began rocking into her harder, rubbing her clit faster, twisting her nipples harsher, and just all-together giving Rachel _more _as she spoke, "Third Law, Rachie. The last one."

She was so close. So incredibly, incredibly close. She'd been teetering on the edge since she was told to explain the difference between velocity and acceleration, and that seemed like hours ago. She could feel her climax coming on fast and knew that the only thing standing between her and it was Newton's Goddamned Third Law of Motion. "For every action there is an _equal _and _opposite _reactiiiooonnn." Just as she had finished speaking Santana bit down harshly on her shoulder and sucked, increasing her speed and tightening the circles on the smaller girl's clit and digging her nails into the tit she was kneading. That was all it took. Rachel came hard, hips jerking and legs tensing, trembling, as Santana's name fell from her lips over and over and over again in short gasps before finally just being cut off as she eyes slammed shut and her whole body went complete tense.

As she began to come down she collapsed onto the couch, only vaguely aware of how she was being turned onto her back and that Santana's fingers were gently stroking her folds as the girl laid soft kisses up and down Rachel's neck.

When Rachel was eventually able to speak, or at least breath enough to believe she'd be able to speak, she opened her mouth to say something – anything – and all that came out was a mumbled "Mmmph…." The smile and chuckle she got in return though was worth it. She opened her eyes just in time to see Santana licking her fingers clean, and suddenly felt hot all over again. But the other girl just kissed her nose and smirked.

"You okay there, Berry?"

"Uunph…"

This time Santana actually laughed, shaking her head and burying her face in Rachel's hair for a moment. "You're adorable. It's ridiculous."

Rachel just yawned. She felt sleepy. And warm. And happy. But mostly sleepy.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she must have, because next thing she knew her phone was going off, her dads were wondering where she was, and she was packing up and getting dressed at 11:30 on a school night. She had barely managed to say a hurried goodbye Santana, who was in a pair of pajama pants and a loose t-shirt, sitting on the couch next to where Rachel had been sleeping, and had just been watching the other girl scurry around with a smirk on her face.

Rachel absolutely aced her test, despite fidgeting and having to cross and uncross and tighten then loosen her legs the entire time and do her best to ignore the way her cheeks and neck heated up every time she read a question. All she heard was Santana's husky whispers, and the knowing smile on the girl's face from the corner in front of the room didn't help.

After class she confronted Santana in the hall. "I must speak with you in private, Lopez. Auditorium." She turned on her heel and walked away without bothering to hear the taller girl's reply.

Ten minutes later (both girl's had a free period) Rachel and Santana stood in the auditorium, next to the grand piano that had been set up.

"You wanted to talk, Berry?"

Rachel nodded. "Yes. I was…" She took a calming breath. "I was wondering if you could give me another lesson tonight-."

Santana laughed. "One lesson per student, Berry."

But Rachel shook her head. "If you would allow me to finish. I was hoping you could give me another lesson tonight after I take you out to Breadstix this evening."

The girl, back in her slacks and a red blouse with her hair back and glasses back on, openly stared. "Wait, what?"

The diva and singing star smiled, stepping up to Santana and looking up at her through her thick eyelashes. "I would like to take you out tonight."

"On-on a- Like, on a date…?" It was the first time Rachel had ever seen Santana actually looking nervous. It was both awe-inspiring and amusing.

"Yes. On a date."

"You're joking."

"I'm afraid not."

You're one of the most popular girl's in the school, Rachel. You're best friends with Quinn Fabray, you've helped Glee win National's three years in a row, and-"

"And I am asking you, Miss Lopez, to do me the honor of taking you out on an actual and real date tonight."

"For a 'lesson."

Rachel shook her head, blushing and shrugging as she looked down. "O-only if you want to. I mean, I would like to, you know, continue actually be tutored, as you are an outstanding teacher um… other techniques aside, but um… Well I've actually been trying to find an excuse to talk to you- get closer to you since sophomore year and – well- it's just… It was an opportunity."

They stood there for a moment, before Rachel heard Santana chuckle and look up. "Quinn won't like it, you know…"

The diva shrugged again, smiling. "Kurt and I can handle her. He is the school social chameleon and- And honestly, you seem like a really interesting person, and I want to get to know you. And everyone knows that what Rachel Berry wants-"

"Rachel Berry gets." Santana laughed. "Yeah, okay, Breadstix it is. I'll pick you up at 7?"

Biting back a happy squeal, Rachel nodded vigoriously. "Perfect. 7 is perfect."

Santana just smiled, kissed Rachel on the nose, and walked away with an extra sway to her hips.


End file.
